Power and Price
by Katamabob
Summary: Blinded by ambition. Willing to sell your soul for what you thought you wanted. But it won't mean anything, in the end. Gellert Grindelwald and his reflections on power, and its worth. GellertxAlbus, unresolved love and regret.


**Power and Price**

_Blinded by ambition. Willing to sell your soul for what you thought you wanted. But it won't mean anything, in the end. _

_And it will end._

_ It always ends._

_**Grindelwald**_

Durmstrang was an awful place, cold and miserable. But it had its use. It brought him something very important - a future.

He had seen it, he was sure. In the crystal ball he was using for class. As he had stared into the depths, he could feel its _power_. Many of his classmates had scoffed, later, saying that Seers were frauds, that divination didn't work. But he had seen something.

The fog had twisted and coiled in the sphere, becoming a shape, many shapes, and then a vision. It was him, him at the head of an army. They were sweeping, unstoppable, across Europe. Muggles were fleeing, terrified, as he approached, but wizards bowed down to him in respect, awe and fear.

It was beautiful. It was his destiny. He _would_ make it happen.

He had seen someone else in the vision, briefly. A boy, about his own age, with long auburn hair. He was somehow important to it all. And Gellert would find him.

That became easier after he had been kicked out of school for mildly torturing a fellow student who refused to bow down to him, despite their inferior status and blood. The idiot.

But he had found, amongst stories and legends in the Durmstrang library, repeated mentioning of three items of great power, items that could make him Master of Death, make him unstoppable.

The rumours were of the Peverells, that the Peverells had the Deathly Hallows. And their graves were in England.

He found no real clue to the Hallows there, but he did find something, some_one_ he hadn't expected. The boy from his vision. Albus Dumbledore. He was important, Gellert could feel it from the moment they met. Albus was clever, resourceful and incredibly cunning, though he was a bit too soft. He lacked the ruthless approach that Gellert had long cultivated within himself. But together they could do anything, he was sure.

Things began to complicate when he approached the time he was going to leave for mainland Europe – Germany, to be exact. He had planned to come back for Albus, who should truly be at his side in the plans, but was busy with his brat simpleton of a brother and his crazy sister.

But, when the time came, he decided he should stay a little longer. _His plans could wait another day, another week, another month_.

He felt disgusted at his own lack of will, but he found that he wanted to stay, with Albus. In Albus he had found an equal, his first true friend. Albus wasn't scared of him, Albus was probably the only man who could defeat him in a duel. Albus didn't like him for his power, for his brains, for his ruthlessness. He liked him for the times when he was most... human. Most himself. Most carefree. It was a new thing, being carefree.

So he stayed, just a little longer. But as weeks became months he grew frustrated. He didn't want to leave Albus, but he couldn't take him with him because of those thrice-damned children that Albus had had forced upon him.

Why was he so weak?

He had wondered why he felt so close to Albus. He knew his excuses, to do with intelligence and convenience and destiny; but were they the real reasons? He couldn't help but feel … something when Albus looked at him. Excitement, nervousness and … nothing. _He felt nothing_, he told himself. Nothing at all. Ever.

But all it took was one kiss, one momentary lapse in self control, and he was ruined. He lusted for his friend, for another man. He would not, _could not_ use the word 'love'. Because it didn't exist, especially for something like _this_. He disgusted himself. It was vile weakness, disgusting submission to body over mind.

He knew he had to leave, get out of Godric's Hollow. But... he couldn't leave Albus behind, he just couldn't, and he didn't know why. So he stayed to try convince Albus to leave with him.

Everything fell apart when Albus' idiot brother, Aberforth, confronted them, yelled at them.

It ended with a girl lying dead on the floor, Aberforth murderous and Albus … Albus sobbing. He had never seen Albus cry.

He had reached a hand out to his friend, only to have it knocked away. Albus had looked at him, then, and there was fear in his eyes, fear for his family. Disgust for his friend. And it twisted something inside Gellert.

He fled.

Years later, he had everything he had dreamed of, so long ago. He had his power, his terrified masses. He had the Elder Wand, most powerful of the Hallows. He had everything.

But his nights were filled with regret, with images that scared him. He saw a young girl lying, dead, upon the floor. He cared nothing for her; he had effectively killed millions, but Albus looked at him with fear, and possibly hatred. His startlingly blue eyes were accusing, heart-broken. His eyes, once full of humour and delight, haunted him.

When he heard that Dumbledore – the famous Albus Dumbledore, who discovered the twelve uses of dragon's blood, who was the strongest supporter of Blood Equality and Muggle Rights – was coming to Germany, Gellert felt true terror. Not for the battle, he had the Elder Wand. He was unbeatable. But he was afraid of Albus. What he might see in those eyes that plagued him at night. That same hatred, that same fear? He almost considered running. But he had come too far, fought too long for his absolute power. He almost had it, and was one indiscretion of his youth – as he would insist on calling it, even in the privacy of his own mind – worth throwing everything away? Of course not.

Albus looked so different, so very different. The auburn hair was turning grey, a long beard had been grown. The man in front of him was just that, a man. And not even a young man. Almost old. He hadn't expected Albus to look so different. A part of him felt sad at this loss of the boys they were, but a darker part rejoiced that facing this man, whom he knew nothing of, felt nothing for, would not be difficult. He could do it.

But as they squared off to duel, Albus spoke.

"This has gone on long enough, Grindelwald." His voice was the same as it had been, just slightly deeper, stronger, more confident. Powerful. "I hoped it wouldn't come to this."

Feeling slightly shaken, but unwilling to admit it, Gellert sneered back at his erstwhile friend.

"Really, _Dumbledore_?" He emphasised Albus' last name to prove to himself, and to Albus, that he could. But it stung. The coldness. "And why did you not come earlier? Were you _afraid_?" He didn't want Albus to be afraid of him, to be as afraid as Gellert was.

Both wands were raised, now.

"Not of you," said Albus, simply. And he didn't look afraid. But Gellert could feel his heart speeding up. What if he lost? _What if he won?_

He struck, sending a beam of purple light flashing out of his wand. Albus didn't look surprised, just batted it away and, quick as anything, sent back an answering curse. The battle had begun.

They fired spell after spell, fought one another with fire and ice, earth and air, magic and ingenuity. They each fought with everything.

But it was when Gellert found an opening, a sudden pause in Albus, the perfect time to strike a final blow, that their eyes met. They were closer than they had been earlier, and for all that had changed, Albus' eyes looked the exact same. Except their was no light-hearted twinkle, no warmth, and nor was there fear. Just great sadness. Disappointment. Anxiety. There wasn't even battle rage.

He didn't cast the curse, couldn't force himself to. He had the Elder Wand, but all the power in the world wouldn't help him if he didn't have the strength to strike.

The moment passed, and suddenly Albus was on the offensive. Gellert knew then that he would lose. He couldn't do it, couldn't kill Albus. He could kill anyone else – without a single pang of remorse – but not him, never him. And he knew that Albus, whatever he may or may not have once felt for Gellert, would not give up. Too many people had died, too much was at stake. Albus, with his soft heart, didn't have the luxury of choice.

Gellert was disarmed, knocked unconscious, and the last thing he saw was those blue eyes, awash with great sorrow.

When he awoke he was in his own prison, the prison he had built, and there he would remain to dream of nothing but blue eyes and regrets. Regrets of weakness, regrets of love and, most of all, regrets of ambition. Power had destroyed him, when for years he had blamed love. You could not have both, it seemed.

It was fifty years after the battle when his end finally came, in the night. His dreams were interrupted by the screams of his prison guards, below. He felt no satisfaction at their passing, but did not mourn them. He didn't even feel any fear. He knew Albus was dead, killed because of the one who came for him. There was nothing left for him but loneliness and despair, and the cold prison floor.

He had once thought that Voldemort, a rising power in Britain, would be like himself. Someone who had lost who he was, who he could be, to ambition and power. But he wasn't. The man before him now wasn't a man at all, but a monster. Someone who had never loved, never even considered it. Someone who felt only hatred and greed. Looking upon that white face and monstrous features, Gellert couldn't help but feel indescribably grateful to Albus Dumbledore, who by friendship, love and, later, enmity had prevented Gellert from becoming this _thing_. Gellert had loved, still loved, and he was human. And though he was the one at wand point, defenceless, he couldn't help but feel infinitely wiser and more powerful than the monster named Voldemort.

He knew what Voldemort sought, he sought it as so many others had, in their quests for invincibility. Their downfalls had usually been because of their own, human, weaknesses, not the wand. But Voldemort seemed to no longer be human. And it would ruin the world, ruin everything, if Voldemort found it. It would be catastrophic. But, even worse, it would bring Voldemort to a place where Gellert did not want this _thing_ to go. Albus Dumbledore's grave. Albus had the wand, but Albus was dead, at peace. This thing had no business there. And Albus would not want Voldemort anywhere _near_ Hogwarts. Hogwarts was the most important thing in the world to Albus. Voldemort must be kept away at all costs.

"So you have come," Gellert said, smiling. Voldemort could do nothing to him. He was not afraid. He was not afraid, as he had been when facing Albus, and he had been armed then. Love gave him strength now, when before it had given him weakness. "I thought you would... one day. But your journey was pointless. I never had it."

"You lie!" hissed Voldemort, and pain crashed into Gellert, his body quaking as the agony charged through his thin frame. The pain went on for a short while, and Gellert felt by that point that he was almost beyond earthly pain. He was old. It was his time. And maybe, just maybe, he would get a chance to see Albus once more before he was banished to Hell, if such a thing existed. It could hardly be much worse, if it did.

He laughed scornfully in the face of Voldemort's fury. The so-called Dark Lord, a title that had belonged to many, seemed to be unaccustomed to such derision. The fool obviously was human, despite his visage. Only man could suffer from such a weakness as pride or arrogance.

"Kill me, then, Voldemort, I welcome death!" he laughed. He did welcome it. But he needed it to come before he gave in and revealed the possessor of the Wand. He needed Voldemort angry enough. "But my death will not bring you what you seek... there is so much you do not understand..."

Voldemort would never understand why Gellert defied him. He would never understand that Gellert was still a man, still human, still in love with the man who had imprisoned him.

"It is you who seems not to understand, Grindelwald," hissed Voldemort in fury. "I am the one with the power, while you rot in a cell. I succeeded where you failed. _I_ defeated Albus Dumbledore as you could not! He died on my orders!"

Gellert no longer laughed, but just surveyed the monster. "You do nothing but prove your own ignorance. I never wished Albus dead. But you... you stop at nothing. And it shall be your downfall. I hear it was already your downfall, nearly sixteen years ago. It will be again."

"You were weak! And I am strong. You were defeated!"

"But not destroyed, whereas you have destroyed yourself."

"I grow weary of your idiocy, fool! Tell me where it is!" Voldemort shrieked, furious. Another flash of pain jolted through Gellert's body, but he ignored it. He saw Voldemort's head twitch, as though he was distracted by something, suddenly even more impatient. Perfect.

"Kill me then!" he demanded. "You will not win, you cannot win! That wand will never, ever be yours – "

Voldemort's pathetic reserves of patience broke at that moment and a flash of green silenced Gellert Grindelwald forever. But it was not green he focused on, but brightest blue.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Written for _**thegoatromanti**c_ for winning my Random Song Challenge with her excellent story 'There Ain't No Cure For Love' (from the song of the same name by Leonard Cohen).

This story was inspired by thegoatromantic's choice, 'Crystal Ball' by Keane, and is long overdue. My only excuse is school :( Pathetically average, I'm afraid.

My first ever time writing Gellert, never mind Gellert/Albus, but that's the pairing that just kind of jumped out at me for some reason, inspired by both the title and the lyrics of the song. I was also intrigued by the 'mirror, mirror' part of the song...

I was thinking of continuing this as a series of one-shots themed around those desperate for power - would anyone be interested in reading that?

Please review, it takes five seconds and brightens my day ten-fold ^_^


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